Alas, I own no Sweeney Todd.
Let's start with something light…an amuse bouche, if you will...
Mrs. Lovett stood at the counter, chopping an onion to fold into some meat pie filling for seasoning. Onions always meant trouble to her, not because they made her cry, but because they came in layers… And layers made Mrs. Lovett think of her Mr. Todd, on a metaphorical level of course, but mostly in more… physical terms. They always reminded her of how his clothing came in layers, too…
She would always undress him in her mind. It was almost a compulsion, really, hardly something she could help; just look at him, for heaven's sake! Dark, delectable, and bitter, like Belgian chocolate...
She sighed.
She would always start with his fingerless knit gloves, because, when he wouldn't be able to take his hands off her, she would, of course, want them to be his bare hands…
She would tease them off of his fingers, paring them off delicately, like the skin off an apple...
Next, she imagined gently untucking the ends of his cravat, carefully but quickly untying it and unwinding it from his neck, the perfect blend of impatience and caress.
She deposited the silken scarf with care on the floor as she made her way to his throat…
He never buttoned the collar of his white shirt, and she could always just barely see his neck peeping through the cloth… Without the cravat to obscure her view, she would delicately peel back the collar of the shirt, softly kissing his bare throat.
As a barber, naturally he wore the finest colognes, in just the right amounts, dabbed onto his neck, just where Mrs. Lovett liked to linger, letting herself become enveloped in his musky, sensual scent…
In good time comes the thin, faded coat, which she would push off his shoulders to the floor, revealing his slender form. Garnishing his jaw line with kisses, she tugged him closer by his lapels before she unbuttoned his vest with her nimble fingers.
She envisioned brushing her lips against his lightly, then deepening the kiss. Mmm...he was always seasoned to her taste...
She would always become more impatient at this point, because once the vest was gone, it was just the shirt…that beautiful, white, sheer shirt left… like tissue paper wrapped around fine chocolate...the last layer between her and her treat, the last obstacle to his bare skin, smooth, over hard muscle…
Her desire stirred more fiercely in the pit of her stomach.
In her mind, he would beg her to go faster, but she would tease him slowly. For as long as she could hold out, at least, which was never much longer than he could, even in her simmering imagination.
She had to start unbuttoning the tiny buttons at the wrists, and after that was done, she couldn't help but kiss the pale, smooth flesh beneath. She could hear him moan softly into her hair in anticipation and delight… Then, acceding to both their wishes, she would untuck the white shirt, always sucking in her breath in anticipation, and pull it off over his head; he would always help with that part; he was real a gentleman.
Then he was revealed to her--that firm, broad chest, his flat, toned stomach, his muscular arms sculpted to perfection as he toiled away at hard labour in Australia… but now he could put those muscles to better use, Mrs. Lovett figured; for her use. She ran her hands all over him, letting them linger where they would…
She really could eat him up, he was delicious…
And then, she would look up to meet his eyes, biting her lip playfully and asking him with her coquettish eyelashes if she should proceed as she lay a hand on his belt buckle. His eyes always stared into hers hungrily, and sometimes, he would even try to do some of this work himself, which Mrs. Lovett would just not allow. This was her recurring daydream, after all.
Deftly, she would unbuckle the belt and whisk it off of him, tossing it onto the growing pile of his clothing. And now, the razor he always armed himself with was safely out of his reach, just in case…
Her excitement bubbling over, it was time for the button on his pants--
"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney said softly.
"Mrs. Lovett!" the real Mr. Todd said, in a tone that indicated he had said it several times already. "And you accuse me of staring off into space too much. What ever is that silly look on your face about?"
Mrs. Lovett swallowed and cleared her throat, swimming back to reality.
"N-nothin', Mr. T," she stammered, blushing, even though he couldn't possibly have known what she had been thinking. "Sorry. Ya need somethin'?"
"Never mind," he grumbled. "I'll get it myself."
As he stalked off, she guiltily finished chopping the onion and tossed it into the mixing bowl. Now it was time to add… Oh, dear. Mrs. Lovett swallowed again. Now it was time to add cucumber. She bit her lip. Cucumbers made her think even worse thoughts than onions…
Author's note: this was inspired by the time my room mate gave me a cucumber with a bright pink condom on it. It was brilliant. Then it sat in the sun for a week and was not so brilliant…
Anyone who reviews gets a cucumber with a surprise coloured condom on it!